


Into the Dannyverse

by TheOnlyWife



Category: Danny Phantom, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe, goth danny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25574350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOnlyWife/pseuds/TheOnlyWife
Summary: The stories of Sam "Mourner" Manson, Danny "Dex" Fenton, and Danny B. Fenton.Now featuring Tucker Ghouly!
Relationships: Danny Fenton/Tucker Foley
Comments: 18
Kudos: 65





	1. Sam Mourner

The first thing that Sam Manson did when the guilt dropped on her heart like a lead brick was grab the spare guitar from the side of her bed. She gripped the strings until they threatened to pierce her skin.

Sam had killed her best friend. She convinced him to go in. She was there when he screamed out in agony. And she had the audacity to live when he died.

She screamed as loud as she could when she smashed her guitar to bits on her bedroom floor. It dented the wood the more she did it, but she kept doing it over and over again. The twang from the strings as they were struck against the floor encouraged her to hit harder. The sound made her sick.

She wasn’t sure when she had started crying, but the tears running down her face showed no sign of stopping. She struck harder and harder until her arms ached.

She took in deep breath once it had been shattered to the point of not looking like her green and purple guitar anymore. It was bent backwards and the strings were torn clean off, no longer able to make a single sound. She threw it to the other side of her room, not caring in the slightest about ever playing music again. It hit the wall and scattered into more pieces than were on her floor. 

She still had the original, of course. The one she’d played when Danny was still alive was precious. She could never destroy that one. Danny would have cried.

She stood in the center of her room for what felt like an eternity doing nothing but breathing. She clenched her hands tightly until her fingernails hurt her palms so much she had to stop. It was deadly quiet with only the faint sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. It got slightly louder, coming closer, but stopped just outside her door.

“Samantha, darling, are you ok?” Sam heard the doorknob wiggle, but she knew she had locked it the second she got home. “Could you please open the-?” called her mother from behind her thick wood door in her sickeningly sweet voice. It made Sam want to vomit with the way she was talking. As if everything could be solved by ‘talking it out’ like she was in therapy.

“Leave me alone!” she shouted, storming over to the door and kicking it for good measure. Sam waited by the door, taking in short bursts of air dispersed between stifled sobs. She listened for a long time before her mother’s shadow left the bottom of the door and Sam heard her high heels go down the hall.

Sam took in a deep, shaky breath and put her back to the door. She leaned against it and choked back another sob. Danny wouldn’t have liked seeing her like this. Yelling at her parents and acting violently. He would say it wasn’t like her and tell a joke to make her laugh.

She missed him so much. He hadn’t liked the goth aesthetic when they played together, but he still tried to fit in with her and Tucker. She never thanked him for all the times he had her back. Whether it was covering for her when she needed to get away from the suffocating love of her parents or cracking a joke to make her laugh when she messed up during a recording.

The guilt of killing him was soul crushing.

It was her fault he was dead. She knew it from the bottom of her heart. The thought that she hurt Danny - that she convinced him to go into that death trap - was eating her alive. It had only been a few weeks, but it might as well have just happened. Sam could still hear his screams as he was violently electrocuted. It didn’t matter if she was also hurt.

Dead Cat and the Haunted were never meant to play ever again in Sam’s eyes. It wouldn’t be the same without Danny. 

Sam held back another round of sobs, covering her mouth to keep herself from crying out. Her shoulders shook as more tears spilled down her face and onto the floor.

Sam, once she had taken a few breaths, stepped over to her bed. She crouched down and felt around under it. Her hands grasped the wooden item resting by the back corner of her room under her bed. She pulled it out, settling into a cross-legged position in front of her bed.

A wooden box the size of a large book sat in her lap. The box was painted in a blue and black swirl of space littered with stars and galaxies. The planets lined the outside in order, with the sun painted on the bottom of it in bright yellow.

She lifted the lid off, setting it to the side. She pulled out each item from inside one by one: Danny’s red beanie, his drumsticks, and the ripped off NASA patch from his favorite white and red sweater.

In one of her darker moments she grabbed her old art supplies and had painted it in tribute to Danny. She kept the box under her bed for times like these, where she felt confused, lost, and angry.

She couldn’t hold onto the anger forever. She had to let it go eventually. This was just something that helped calm her down in times of need, she reasoned.

She couldn’t be angry for long for a reason. She had something to do. While Danny had died, she lived. But she hadn’t just lived. She gained abilities. Powers.

Ghost powers.

She let the beanie go, setting it back in the empty box, along with everything else piled on top. She put the glossy lid back on and gently slid the box under her bed, pushing it as far as it could go.

She had a duty to attend to. The people of Amity were under attack by the ghosts she let loose. She had to protect them. If not altruism, then she would do it for Danny. Her other form would need a name. Green and purple eyes, with a hazmat suit to match. Danny would have come up with a clever name. Tucker would laugh at it, but tell Sam that it suited her. She missed Tucker, but it was for his safety that she never talked to him again. Even if he kept trying.

She came up with a name the day the funeral happened, while touching the edge of the casket and crying bitter tears. The only name that would suit her. The only name that did Danny’s death and her grief justice:

Mourner.

She would be the hero Danny had dreamed of becoming. She would save people in his name. She couldn’t save him, but maybe she could save everyone else.

She would do anything for Danny.


	2. Dex Fenton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danny hadn’t known what to do when the accident happened. At least, not at first.

Danny hadn’t known what to do when the accident happened. His parents had rushed him to the hospital the second they found him in the basement, clutching the crispy, burnt remains of his right arm to his chest.

The doctors asked his parents if they would give permission for amputation. Danny was not dumb - he knew what amputation meant - so when the doctors tried to explain it to him, he already knew. They gave him anesthetic so they could perform surgery just a half hour after he agreed to it.

Waking up with a partly cut off arm was a different experience. The first thing that he tried to do was sit himself up with both of his arms. His parents were sitting in the room when he first woke up. His mom was half-awake in the chair off in the corner, blanket tucked around her lap and a pillow behind her back. His dad was in a spare metal chair the hospital staff pulled out, completely awake. Danny could smell the thick scent of coffee and see the multitude of empty paper cups in the small garbage bin by the door.

They were both awake enough to see him struggling to sit up and rushed to his side. Danny knew what was going to happen while they were giving him anesthetic, but the reality was sinking in. He cried when he realized there were going to be so many things he could never do. Mainly, he didn’t know if he could be an engineer like he thought he could be.

His parents promised, teary-eyed themselves, to do anything they could to help him. They promised to give him a new arm. And they promised that they would find a cure to the contamination. 

It was only when Danny looked in a mirror for the first time did he realize what they had seen. He had stained his eyes green when he got shocked. His parents likened it to ecto-radiation, seeing it as something to fix.

It had taken them months to learn that Danny was still the same boy before the accident as after. Tucker, upon seeing the mechanical arm, thought it was cool. He showed Danny comic book heroes with amputations, disabilities, and other inhibitors. Tucker said that they were no less powerful and talented with or without their disabilities. Danny had felt better about his arm.

Tucker had dubbed him “Dex” as a combination of ‘Danny’ and the arms design name ‘The Fenton EX-J914’. Danny liked it so much that he asked Jasmine if she would call him that. She said something about finding purpose in one’s self in spite of recent events. Translation: Yes. Yes she would call him that.

But just when Dex was getting used to living a normal life with a mechanical arm, he started developing powers. He could control ecto-powered tech. It made working and engineering his parent’s tech even easier, though they still limited time spent in the lab. He found that all he had to do to make something work was look at it. And his parents took his psychic powers as a challenge to make Dex’s life even easier.

They upgraded his arm so that he himself could have ghost powers. Suddenly his arm let him turn invisible, as well as coming with an added ghost tracker. Tucker, once again, came up with the term ‘ghost sense’ for it, claiming ‘tracker’ sounded lame.

His parents were struggling, however, with giving him anything else. There simply wasn’t enough room in his arm to add anything else. Dex had read enough of Tucker’s comic books to know where this was going.

He brought up the idea of making a mech subtly during dinner. He mentioned that he read Tucker’s comic book collection. He mentioned that there were some amputees who still fought. Some with their arms, some were psychic, and others with mechas. Jasmine knew what he was thinking, but instead of scolding him, she encouraged the idea. She said that having an outlet for his energy would be good. His parents jumped on it, quickly putting together any idea they had for it, including ones they had wanted for his arm.

In about a week’s time, they brought him down to the basement for a ‘surprise gift’. They had made a giant mecha for him, topped with a big red bow. They told him that it could turn intangible. They told him that it could fly. They told him that they would support him if he decided to fight ghosts, just like them.

He hugged them as hard as he could and told them he would make them proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All comments are welcome!


	3. Danny B. Fenton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inpatient care was helpful to most people. But to a sixteen year old Danny B, who had no addiction to conquer, it was everything but.

Danny B. was not angry at Jazzy. How could he? She was just doing what she thought was best for him, even if she was dead wrong.

Heh, dead wrong. The thought made him chuckle, even with how morbid it was. He had to laugh at his own mortality. Or was it immortality? He hadn’t checked, nor would he chance it now that he was in inpatient care. 

He’d been here for months now. For a smoking addiction. Or so his parents claimed as they checked him in.

Not much to do when they take away phones. Even his new drawing phase was cut short when they told him about their ban on pens and pencils. So he took to staring at the ceiling as he laid on his twin sized bed with a thin mattress and immovable bed frame.

He checked. You can’t lift it, even with his incredible strength. Seems to be bolted to the ground, as if he were the kind to throw beds around like a child. Though, he was technically underage. Sixteen, if one were to get into the specifics.

Jazzy always felt far away to him. They were still so young, and though he understood some of it, he didn’t get all of it. If she really thought he smoked, why didn’t she try to understand him better? Surely she’d believe him when he said he wasn’t an addict.

If he saw her with smoke coming out of her mouth, he would have asked more than one question. 

It didn’t help that the staff cut off visits from Sam and Tucker. They needed to know so desperately where he was getting cigarettes from - to the point where he wasn’t even allowed to see his best friends.

Though that wasn’t on Jazzy either - she hadn’t been allowed to visit, just like them. How cruel. A sixteen year old boy with a crippling addiction (at least in their eyes) not allowed to see his own family.

Though they let him have his own room. _How nice of them_. As if it wasn’t for a reason other than his ‘addiction’. Like it wasn’t because they thought he was getting it from another patient. 

He stared at the ceiling, even harder than before, mostly out of spite. How dare they treat him like this? If this was their way of getting him ‘help’ then it was twisted. Cutting him off from the outside world, taking away anything he once thought as fun, and scolding him whenever he had to protect them from ghost attacks.

He gasped, a puff of smoke forcing itself out of his mouth. Of course, another ghost. They always followed him, no matter how nice he asked them not to. Then again it would be hilarious if Skulker agreed to stop hunting him if he just said ‘pretty please with a tranquilizer dart on top’.

He sat up slowly, really taking his time. They moved his room so the ghost, whoever it was, would have to find him before they could attack. He stood up, almost shoving himself up as he went, and trudged over to the window. Thick, locked down, and dirty with a heavy coating of dust.

Some people wrote on the dust, which he noticed every time he came to this side of the room. It was hard to see in daylight, but the bright moonlight brought it out so boldly.

Tiny writings with just the tip of the finger (or even just the fingernail). Some were little flowers, which he secretly liked to add onto. A little sun in the corner and a rose next to it seemed fitting.

Others were the words of people who didn’t want to be here. The children who did nothing wrong. His kin. 

_‘I’m not sick’_

_‘I want to go home’_

Or even _‘I’m sorry’_ written over and over and over again, lapping over each other sometimes. He hoped that person was ok now.

He choked out another puff of thick, black smoke. They were getting close now, definitely on his trail. It was thicker because they were right on top of him. He learned that the hard way with too many close calls.

He glanced up at the moon. It was full tonight - he kept track of the cycles, even when he was here. He sighed, voluntarily this time.

He wanted to go home. He was always lonely. He was always scared.

And he was so very _very_ tired.

But he had a job to do. So he transformed, rose from the ground, and flew out the window, taking care to not disturb the dusty words.


	4. Tucker Ghouly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A battle gone wrong, Danny and Tucker rush home. Danny does everything to keep his boyfriend comfortable.

Danny hated when Tucker got hurt during ghost fights. He knew it had been a long day (for the both of them) and looked up to Tucker for powering through it. He hated it most, though, when he got hurt.

A ghost fight with Skulker never ended well and today was especially bad. He was snuck up on and Skulker got in a few hits. It was gruesome, even under the onesie. They rushed to Tucker’s home to take care of it as soon as possible.

“Unzip the top part, will you?” Danny said, opening the top drawer where, instead of socks, there was a plethora of medical supplies. He reached into the top right where there was a ziploc bag of bandaids and a mini tube of first aid ointment and pulled them both out.

“Ooooh, Danny. You wanna see me strip?” Tucker said, throwing a seductive lilt into his voice. “How dirty…”

Danny held back an eye-roll. “Just do it.” he said. He was refusing to be a part of this while Tucker was hurt, no matter how much he wanted to play along. “No funny games.”

“Awww, that’s not very Danny-like of you.” Tucker argued, keeping the same tone. All the same, he unzipped his onesie from the front and put his back to Danny.

“You don’t get ‘fun-time’ Danny until we get you patched up.” Danny argued back. He unscrewed the cap of the ointment and smeared his fingertip with it. He pressed it into Tucker’s back, trying hard to ignore his fingers feeling the miniscule separations between his boyfriend's skin.

“Besides, you should be lucky you get anything other than ‘Goth Danny’.” He wiped the tiny mess of first aid and blood off on the bottom half of Tucker’s outfit, which was lying pressed up against Tucker’s back. “Sam doesn’t.”

“Hey!” Tucker cried out indignantly. “That’s my handmade suit!”

“Keep your voice down, Tuck.” Danny chided, wary of being too loud this late at night. “It’ll get washed anyway.”

“I don’t know if this thing’s ever seen laundry soap before.” he pointed out. He lifted up the bloody part of the onesie. “I can’t believe I made this and then never thought to wash it. My mom would be so disappointed.”

“Yeah she’s a bit of a ‘clean clothes clean life’ kinda woman.” Danny agreed. He’d slept over too many times, if he was being honest. Enough to notice the crazy amount of laundry his mom did. To put into perspective, he once thought Jazz was a clean freak with her washing laundry every other day. Tucker’s mom washed her outfit several times before she would even think about putting it on.

Danny unzipped the bag of bandaids and grabbed a couple of the bigger ones. The ones meant for deeper, wider injuries. He peeled off one side of the parchment and stuck that half to the biggest wound on Tucker’s back. He pressed that side against his skin, then peeled back the other side and pressed it down as well.

He did this several times with each and every cut, no matter how small. They always had more band-aids. He even had the chance to get into the more childish and colorful ones. They, jokingly, bought some ghost band-aids meant for kids. He finally got to use those and the kicker was that Tucker wouldn’t know until he took them off.

“Ok.” he said, once he was satisfied with Tucker’s rainbow splayed back. “Let’s get you into something less bloody.”

“Gonna stay and watch me strip _now_?” Tucker asked, bringing back the pretend seductive voice.

“Nope.” Danny said, forcing himself not to smile. “In fact, I’m going to leave you right here all alone.”

“Still no fun-time Danny?” Tucker said, giving him his puppy dog eyes and pouty lip. It only worked sometimes, and Danny wouldn’t let it this time.

“Not until you stop bleeding.”

“You won’t be able to tell if I’m wearing clothes.” Tucker argued.

“Then you better hurry and get changed.” Danny argued back, finally allowing himself to smile when he turned around and opened the bedroom door. He heard the shuffling of clothes behind him, the opening of drawers, and the even quieter sound of Tucker’s jumpsuit hitting the floor.

He left without another word, walking slowly down the stairs not only to not wake anyone in the house, but to give him time to change.

He knew Tucker would enjoy a bowl of his favorite ice cream (and maybe some cuddle time) after a long day of ghost hunting. Danny didn’t know what tiny lacerations along his back felt like, thank goodness, but he could imagine. Ice cream was the least he could do.

Grabbing two big, blue bowls from the cabinet as quietly as possible was a bit of a challenge with this house’s squeaky floorboards, but he managed just fine.

He tried using the method of peeling back the sticky part that held the freezer door closed before opening it, but it hardly made a difference when it opened with one of the loudest sounds in the world. He inwardly groaned as it snapped open, hoping it wouldn’t wake up his parents at this ungodly hour of the night.

He nabbed the neopolitan and mint chocolate chip ice cream tubs they always made sure were stocked up in both of their houses and set them aside. Danny kept a pistachio one for Sam at his house, but she prefers it in a cone so she hardly eats it except when the three of them sleep over at Danny’s.

He made the two of them bowls, almost filled to the brim with sweet goodness, and walked up the stairs, big spoons in hand.

He couldn’t knock, and didn’t want to make any noise, so he tapped the handle with his elbow instead. Tucker got the door right away, greeting him with a smile and fresh pajamas. Regular looking one’s this time. Danny liked his ghost hunting onesie, but when it lit up from the sunlight it was a bit distracting.

“Well someone’s looking better.” he said, liking how happy Tucker seemed, even if Danny didn’t like him getting hurt like how he did tonight. “Fun-time Danny has brought gifts.”

“Oh heck yeah! Did I ever tell you how much I love you?” He grabbed the bowl from Danny’s hands, shoving the spoon full of ice cream into his mouth while Danny shut the door behind him. “Because it’s a lot.”

“At least sit down before you eat.” Danny said, grabbing the bowl back from Tucker and sitting down on his twin sized bed. He sat cross-legged and patted the spot next to him, inviting Tucker to sit.

He did so, plopping himself down incredibly close to his boyfriend and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“No ‘love-dovey’ Danny until we finish the ice cream.” he said, rubbing the spot where he was kissed. He’d get Tucker back for that later.

“Not even a little?” Tucker brought back out the puppy-dog eyes. Danny hated that it was working.

“Mmmmmm maybe a little bit. We really do have to eat first, though.”

Tucker, instead of a response, started scarfing down his neapolitan ice cream. Danny laughed, but ate his only slightly slower. 

They set aside the empty bowls on Tucker’s nightstand to take to the kitchen in the morning. Danny made more room for Tucker on the bed, pressing his right side up against the wall. Tucker took the que, moving farther into the center and closer to Danny. They both laid down stomach first, arms in front of them.

Danny pulled out his phone, propping it up against a small pillow Tucker always kept on the bottom of his bed for times like this. He set up the playlist of videos he and Tucker have yet to watch together.

The first video played, a let’s play of the new Doom level, and Danny settled deeper into the bed.

Then he reached out and grabbed Tucker’s hand. Tucker accepted right away, squeezing it once. They forgot to turn off the lights, but it didn’t matter. 

Hand in hand, nothing could disturb their peaceful rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of my Dannyverse stories! Hope you enjoyed! Maybe even leave a comment if you want :D


End file.
